Tag: Seaside

Jo n Jesus on a jaunt

Before covid I would religiously go to the seaside every two months or so. Somehow, I have never reclaimed this essential part of my mental health maintenance program. And so I began to rectify this last weekend.

As a serial crap sleeper, I used the insomnia to my advantage and arose early to beat the traffic. I arrived at my favourite sea facing establishment ahead of the local park runners. This meant no queues for ordering breakfast and my very favourite table directly in front of the sea. Yippee for me!

Here I was able to scoff a generously filled and tasty sausage bap washed down with some insomnia defying caffeine and H20 for balance. All while savouring the scenes of the sea. After a cloudy start the sun poked through before eventually colouring the sky blue and shining all over the shop.

After a bit of writing and a lot of contemplating, the call of the beach was too good to resist. I wandered along the sand taking in the wonder of the waves and all that serenity inducing space. I spoke to a couple of randoms and petted some dogs. I met a lady way braver than I who was awaiting a friend to swim in the sea with. Gulp. As much as I love the water, I get cold swimming in an indoor heated pool! Apparently, the cold of the sea gives her a rush of endorphins. Personally, I prefer endorphin evoking activities where I can keep my kit on.

On that point, I changed into my running gear ready to run along the seafront fuelled by sausages, caffeine and blue skies. Magic! Apart from worrying whether I was going to be decapitated by the near invisible fishermen’s lines!

In addition to trying to capture the sensationally stunning seascapes on my phone, I wandered around looking at the stones. The more I looked, the more beautiful they each became with their unique colouring, shapes, sizes and position in relation to others. I found myself struggling to choose which ones to take with me. I offer them in my practice for clients who like to have a visual image of the invisible experiences held within. When I look at these stones, weathered by life yet stunning and original, I realise that  God feels this way about us. Wow right.

I should have headed for my still-forty-minutes-away accommodation after that what with the early start and the crap sleep, but the charity shops were calling. I wish I didn’t always have to overdo EVERYTHING! And sure enough my system started to crash while the drive still remained in between me and my ability to do so. If only I could learn to stop what I am doing before the mounting of the melt down!

Consequently, the drive was accompanied by a lot of cursing and moaning followed by an equal amount of praying and repenting. Then when I was finally two minutes away my sat nav played a game of silly buggers which meant watching the time to arrival get longer and longer. Ugh. But, I eventually landed at my beautiful air b n b on the river. The presence of the hangry beast dictated I put the oven straight on to sling my home-made shepherd’s pie in. Only after I’d eaten it did I slowly become more human again.  At which point I could start to relax and appreciate my surroundings.

The air b n b was just as gorgeous as I remembered it to be; a leather reclining sofa, TV and video player (remember these?), a well equipped kitchen, ample heating, welcome biscuits (choc obviously), milk in the fridge (nice touch) and a sanctuary vibe. Heaven.

I was glad my host didn’t pop over until the hangry beast was fed. For when all was calm, it was great to see him and he kindly pointed out Mars, Jupiter and Saturn on the most strikingly beautiful, clear and starry night. Wowsers.

I wanted to watch a film but my system was too exhausted, so I granted it a hot shower before an early night.

Apart from waking from 3-6 which enabled me to connect to my grief and write a poem for my friend’s funeral, I slept in until 8am. And when I drew up the bedroom blind the scene awaiting me evoked an involuntary gasp of wonder. Frost covered tree branches and glistening river with a backdrop of misty fields as the sun made its way through it all. More wows. How grateful I am to nature and its soul soothing properties – thank you God for wowing us with all of this.

I drank my coffee in bed watching the trees and blue sky’s while being sung to by the birds. Just beautiful.

As a rush-a-holic, rest doesn’t come easy but I’m practising twenty-four glorious hours of it from here on in.

Wonderful.

And, I’m in the process of booking my next trip here for I don’t want another few years to pass without doing so. Life is fleeting and way too precious not to indulge in all the simple pleasures on offer  – utterly divine. Thank you, God.

But, the downside to being in an annexe attached to the main house is that one, or at least this one, can’t help but wonder whether the inhabitants next door can hear the noise I make given that I could hear them! Be it my belting out worship songs to God (who I have to remind myself isn’t deaf, unlike a growing number of my ageing friends – harsh but true – what?!) or farting fuelled by a high fibre diet. And to any men prone to getting all judgy about this, as far as I am aware God made man and woman with the same digestive system and I for one don’t appreciate keeping anything in because men consider it unladylike not to! And I happen to think the invention or rather inclusion of the farting facility is very thoughtful of the God who obviously knew before the beginning of time, that this would offer endless hours of fun for the less stuffy among us. As one who lives alone, I sometimes feel these are wasted when there’s no one else to witness them. Especially as Monty doesn’t even raise a whisker in response. Either way, hopefully my host will be far too reserved, polite and English to comment on such vulgarities! I’ll send up a few prayers to this effect!

All in all, what a wonderful all round treat. And as the sun did insist on shining, I could not resist venturing out for a short-ish walk to take in some fresh air and scenery. I do resent feeling so vulnerable as a woman when walking within woods whose views are obscured from the main roads. Perhaps what men may not appreciate is that most women know they are no match physically for most men should we be unfortunate enough to encounter one with violent tendencies. Anyway, a somewhat hurried, uneasy, prayer filled walk through these woods, and I was back on to the main road. And then back home for the rest of that scrumptious shepherd’s pie followed by a Sunday siesta.

My planned film night got lost to the need to go to bed at 7pm. Sad but true!  But deliciously restful too.

The only downside to my trip was it was too short so I’ve booked a longer one for next time!

Gotta love a jaunt to the seaside.

Soul Matters

This subject is bang on my radar right now because I’m preparing a teaching on mental and emotional health. As I do so I am forced to look at the way in which our culture of ‘no feelings please we’re British’, contributes to our current mental and emotional health crisis. And on a recent trip to the west coast, I was reminded of how this can play out in my own life.

As part of my ongoing commitment to take good care of myself, at the start of this year, I made a commitment to take regular jaunts to the coast. Whether for twenty four hours or a few days, there is something about being by the sea that simply feeds my soul; the sight, the smell, the sound, the space. It stimulates my senses and brings me back to myself.

So this year, I’ve visited parts of the south, the east and now the west coast. I’ve ridden a horse on the beach, seen a seal whilst running on the beach at sun rise, I’ve swum in a wet suit and I’ve soaked up everything that comes with being by the sea. Including fish and chips and cream teas. Obviously. These times are utterly sacred gifts which I look forward to with gusto.

However, just before this latest coastal adventure, something that is happening with a significant person in my life, left me full of sadness. Subsequently my usual sense of anticipation for such a trip went AWOL. Even my first glimpse of the sea failed to elicit my usual gasp of excitement. And when I saw the masses of people in the seafront cafes, I turned and briskly walked away in search of somewhere quieter. I didn’t have the heart to put on a socially acceptable smiley face.

As the trip went on and I walked, sat and ate by the sea, I felt disgruntled by the ongoing presence of my sadness. Clearly it had not got the email that I was on holiday or read ‘the rules’ that state that sadness is not permitted during such times. Quite frankly I wanted it to do one. And I certainly didn’t want to interact with other humans that might need or expect me not to feel as I did.

But then, as I walked amidst the beauty and wonder of God’s stunning creation, something happened. I realised that it was actually me that wanted me to feel something other than what I was. I was on holiday so I thought I should feel happy.

I had unwittingly fallen in to the trap of believing the lies of our time. In this case, the lie that we should be able to simply choose what we are going to feel at any given moment, as if being on holiday should automatically elicit a response of joy, irrespective of whatever else is going on within our life.

I immediately reminded myself of that which I all too easily forget ie that if this was true I would be nothing more than a cold, hard, (British) robot, as opposed to an ordinary human being who has feelings of great sadness about the struggles faced by those I love. Instead of viewing my sadness as something to stiff upper lip away, I remembered that it was an expression of my own aliveness and capacity to care and feel.

At this point, I stopped battering myself for not striking up conversations with randoms like I usually would or for failing to bubble over with the type of joy that usually springs forth in response to the sight of the sea. Instead, I simply gave myself permission to feel my sadness. I gave it the respect it was due.

Paradoxically, no sooner had I done so when my usual sense of freedom and enjoyment began to trickle back through the gap that had previously been blocked by my staunchly British refusal to accept anything other than twenty four seven positivity.

I was reminded yet again that what we refuse to acknowledge always gets in the way of that which we desire to experience.

If you haven’t seen the film Inside Out, I would at this point totally recommend it as it offers an excellent illustration of this exact reality.

Anyway, I did enjoy the rest of my trip but it served as an excellent if painful reminder that when I feel sad, I need to acknowledge the validity of this by taking extra care of myself. What I don’t need is to attempt to will away my own humanity through sheer grit and determination.

No matter how well I think I know this stuff, with a culture that constantly feeds us the idea that we can simply pick and choose our thoughts and feelings to match the occasion, I still need constant reminders. This trip was one!

Our British culture has a lot to answer for!

So in summary, the time is long overdue for us to individually and collectively break free from these cultural chains that bind us to unrealistic, unsustainable ways of living, as if we are robots. I understand that there is much in the way of pioneering around robots at this time but let us not lose sight of what it is that makes us human, for the soul is something that cannot be duplicated or programmed on demand. It is unique, alive, precious, and worthy of being listened to, nourished and loved during its many states, both wanted and unwanted.

Soul matters …